


Suits in Space

by HippyChick1964



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:06:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippyChick1964/pseuds/HippyChick1964
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One box was left in the room.  It mostly had books in it.  Rhiannon had designated it for charity but Gwen saved something atop.  Ianto had stored most of his completed diaries in the safe at the Hub, so they were destroyed.  This one survived because it was still at his apartment.  And although she felt slightly dirty about it, Gwen couldn’t help herself.  Ianto and Jack were bickering several days before 456 arrived and she wanted to know why.  She hoped it would give some clue about Jack’s disappearance and whether or not he would come back this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suits in Space

TORCHWOOD: DIARY OF JACK HARKNESS – Suites in Space

 

Preface – Questioning Losses

_Neatly stacked boxes and a rich leather chair were all that was left of Ianto Jones' flat.  Gwen Cooper and Rhiannon Davies, Ianto’s sister, were dusting window panes simply to have something left to do.  Rhiannon’s husband, Johnny, returned after a load, huffing and puffing.  "I guess it was thankful he was a poofter," he said, starting to pick up a box. "He kept things so neat, this was done in a jiffy!"_

_Gwen shot him a nasty look.  His effort to lighten the mood had clearly backfired._

_As he scurried away, taking his guilty conscious with him, his wife began to quietly sob into a hankie she had found earlier._

_"Why don't you go on, love?" Gwen said to her kindly, her arm around the grieving woman's shoulder. "I'll finish up here."_

_Rhiannon nodded, looking somewhat relieved, and moved quickly toward the exit.  She nearly collided with her husband, coming back for the last boxes._

_Gwen gave him a stern look. “Take care of her. Rhys and I can handle these."_

_He acknowledged the order like an uncertain solider on a confusing mission._

_One box was left in the room, mostly packed with books.  Rhiannon had designated it for charity, but Gwen put one on top, to be saved.  Ianto had stored most of his completed diaries in the safe at the Hub, so they were destroyed.  This one survived because it was still at his apartment.  And although she felt slightly dirty about it, Gwen couldn’t help herself.  Ianto and Jack had been bickering several days before the 456 arrived, and she wanted to know why.  She hoped it would give some clue about Jack’s disappearance and whether or not he would come back this time._

_Gwen poured herself into the last piece of furniture in the flat, a large-armed leather chair.  With a chill in the room and a heavy heart, she pulled a wool blanket around her and opened the book.  The story started with the off – world adventure Jack and Ianto had taken two months before the 456._

 

Chapter One – The Midnight Train to Perturbatio

I should have known it was going to be a bad day when the espresso machine refused to work properly. 

“Okay, _okay,_ Mum!” said an exacerbated Gwen Cooper while hanging up her personal cell phone.  I, serving her morning coffee, raised an eyebrow.  “Damn,” she said, answering my unspoken query. “It’s my aunt-my mum’s older sister.”

“Dead, I assume,” I said, instead of kicking the stubborn device.

“Very much so, and Mum’s a singular mess and demanding I show immediately.”  She pulled out the phone again.  “I’d better call Rhys.”  She turned her back and began chatting with her husband seemingly immediately, kindly walking away so as not to disturb anyone else with her family problems.

Jack Harkness came out of his office in time to hear her irritated voice quaking at Rhys.  I handed him a fresh, hot cup.  “What’s up?” he asked.

“Death in the family.” 

Jack nodded while taking a sip.  “Perfect as usual.”  I flashed him a grin to acknowledge the compliment.

Suddenly, there was a ringing coming from one of the Hub computers.  It was a Skype call from Rabbi Aliyah Teelbaum, head of Torchwood Jerusalem and the Shalom Center for Peace.  “Jack?”

“Rabbi!  Great to hear from you, as I so rarely lately get to hear that purr from across the continent.”

Aliyah laughed.  “Jack Harkness, you rogue!  Do you ever quit?”  The rabbi had Halle Berry’s body and Whoopi Goldberg’s whit.  Her hair was deep brownish red, dropping in Shirley Temple curls to her shoulders.  She had olive-colored skin with round, friendly features.   Jack’s coquettish approach was not unwarranted, but Aliyah was as beautiful as she was brilliant and cunning.  She had been running Torchwood there for a year, but had known Jack from his days with the Time Agency through his time with The Doctor.  “Hello, Ianto!”  She had always been a great fan of our relationship and had, on more than one occasion, offered sage advice when my sweet-smelling boss had dumbfounded me.  “Has Jack made an honest man of you yet?”

I started to answer when Jack interrupted me, “Aliyah, I thought I was your only one!”  Jack held his hands to his heart in a mocking plea while I shot him an incredulous look and a pop on his head with a file folder.  Jack laughed then made a half-hearted attempt to pat my ass, but I was too quick for him.  There was plenty of time for that later.  The rabbi rarely called us for purely social reasons.

Aliyah shook her head and smiled at us, “Where’s Gwen?”

“Talking with Rhys,” Jack pointed behind him, where Gwen was still animatedly talking on the phone.  “There seems to be a family emergency.”

“Ah, tell her I said 'hi', 'cuz is sounds like she won’t be able to join you with this.”

“With what?”

Aliyah sighed, “I hate to ask you, Jack, but the American President is in town and with new peace talks underway, and my people are swamped just watching over our Rift activity.”  A Rift had been discovered last year in Tel Aviv and in such a volatile area, establishing a Torchwood unit there was critical.  Rabbi Teelbaum had a fabulous reputation within both the Israeli and Palestinian governments, one of the few both trusted—the former due to her status as a hero in the ’48 and ’67 wars, the latter because of the social service work her institute had done in the occupied territories.  High-level officials from both sides were aware of her alien origins, as an immortal humanoid from the planet Jeshurun Prime, somehow giving her even more street credit.  If she was calling, it was likely not social.

“How can Torchwood Cardiff help?” asked Jack.

She leaned a bit into the screen, her face becoming grim.  “Jack, we’ve got some good intelligence about a shipment of alien arms sales.”

“You’re not boring me so far.  How much do we know?”  

I stood beside Jack, taking notes, as Aliyah continued.  “The Machla are dealers looking for another place to sell their wares.  They’ve found the Rift and see it as a capitalist’s wet dream.  They’ve made some contacts. Intel says they have plans to supply arms to Hamas _and_ a militant Israeli settlers' group, without either side knowing of the other.  They figure to escalate the war by keeping them both coming and keep selling until both sides blow each other and everyone else off the planet.  They’ve done it elsewhere, and what was left makes nuclear war look like fireworks at a family picnic.  Jack, we’ve got to stop them.”

“Okay,” I interjected, “so we can set up a sting operation when they arrive and catch them and the weapons.”

“Sorry, Ianto,” said Aliyah, “it ain’t that easy.”  She sighed.  “The operative who had the meet location was found yesterday, murdered, just outside his house, along with his wife and six-month-old daughter.  Their faces were torn off before they died.” 

I grimaced at the image.  “So how can we stop them?”

“You’re gonna have to stop the weapons before they get here.  We know their origin.” 

“Where is that?” asked Jack.

“The planet Perturbatio,” she answered and Jack nodded in agreement.

“Excuse me,” I said, thinking to interrupt the forming plan.  “We have a Torchwood space ship?  I don’t remember cataloging that, and I know _everything_ about this place, mind you!”

Jack disregarded my protests and returned to Aliyah.  “Where on Perturbatio?”

“You’re going to a town called Familiaritas and meet our contact, Khatara.  I’ve worked with him in the past.  He knows how to reach the Machla.  I’m working on a cover story now to get you in.”

In the background, I could hear Gwen complaining, apparently to her father now.  Negotiating last-minute family events are never easy.  “Nobody’s telling me about how we are getting to said planet,” I tried to remind Jack.  “What and where is this place anyway?”

This seemed to be a question someone was willing to answer.  Aliyah posted a star chart on the screen to share with her transmission.  “Perturbatio is in the Outro System, just round the corner from the Milky Way, about two to three days' travel.”

I was getting irritated now, as the realization of just how we were going to get there came to me.  “I’m not doing time travel, Jack.  Not that Doctor box thing…it sounds dangerous.”  Jack brushed me off.

Aliyah, I guess thinking she was reassuring me, continued.  “You’ll love it, Ianto!  Familiaritas is like a combination of Las Vegas, 1890s western America, and pre-Castro Cuba—a very stylish town.  And the ships that go there, make those Princess Cruises seem like row boats!”  I’m losing my mind now.  The last time I flew, in a regular airplane, my sister and my mates had to get me plastered with a pint of brandy.

“We’ll take a starship cruiser!”  Jack grabbed my hand and kissed it.  “Don’t worry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll hold the barf bag steady for you.”  Aliyah giggled and I gave them both a dirty look.

As if he hadn’t already thought this part through, I asked, “And how are we going to get to the intergalactic ship?  It’s not like they have nonstop flights through Heathrow.”

Jack, still holding my hand, raised it up and pointed to his wrist band.  Closing my eyes, I could already feel the bile rising from my stomach.

“Ianto,” Aliyah teased, “look at the screen.”  I peeped through one eye and saw the most exquisite suits.  “Like I said, I don’t have all of your cover story worked out but I can tell you that the people in Familiaritas like to dress.”  My mouth was watering.  Finally, a mission where looking clean is a priority!  “I know you like Jack’s WWII fare, but can you imagine him in one of these?”  She was right about that.  Next to seeing him naked, having him in a well-tailored suit was next to heaven.  “I’m sending you the specs now and most long-distance ships have a tailor aboard.”  I was sold.

“When do we need to leave?” Jack asked, now that he was assured I’d go.

“How close to now can you get?”

Jack turned around and looked at Gwen, still complaining while making arrangements to leave for a family funeral.  “Ten minutes too late?”

******************************************

Chapter Two - Departure

Note to self - never trust Jack Harkness when he says something won’t be scary.  Didn’t need to “just hold his hand” as every one of my molecules broke down then reintegrated; I needed to crawl into his skin.  Or better yet, just stay home.  And just think: I not only had to do this to get to the ship that would travel to some other planet, I had to take it to get back.  Yuk!

Once he convinced me to open my eyes, we were at the landing dock of the _UFG Curiosus Meretricis_.  Jack said that “UFG” stood for the United Federation of Galaxies.  I thought either he or they had seen too many _Star Trek_ episodes.  Jack said we were somewhere within the Milky Way and the trip to _Perturbatio_ would take a couple of days.  I was just grateful to be on something that at least looked solid.  Jack just laughed at me.  “Think of this part as a sort of vacation,” he said.  “I think we both could use one.”

Once I was certain that I had all my appendages in their proper places, I started looking around.  We were moving single file toward the entryway of the ship.  From what I could see, it was gray and shaped like a fat version of the American space shuttle with sliding windows like an RV.   If we weren’t in outer space in 2010, you would have thought it was any pre–World War Two traveling vessel leaving the Port of London.  However, the difference was our fellow passengers.  All were an assortment of your usual alien types; like a casting call for a George Lucas movie, only more stylish.  These creatures presented themselves like the elite of the galaxy.  It’s amazing how the well-bred have the same regal look all over the world (and now the galaxy).  This was no tourist cruise ship, but a first-class space cruiser.  I guess Torchwood did have deep pockets.

Jack checked our bags with the purser like he was a frequent flyer.  “Thirsty?” he asked.  I nodded.  He took my hand and walked through the throng of passengers and well-wishers.  He smiled at me while we took the lift to what I assumed was the third level.  He kept hold of me as he did his usual quick dash along the halls, weaving in and out of groups of people.  It was clear folks weren’t staring at us because we were two men holding hands, but Jack’s beaming blue eyes and accompanying good looks must have translated across species.  It was nice to be in an environment where we were normal and envied. 

Jack made an abrupt halt, as he is prone to do, in front of a what seemed to be either a disco or a café.  Jack translated the name on the hanging sign as _The Narwhal's Cup_.  “The best, most exotic coffee this side of the Milky Way,” he grinned, eyes lit up with Christmas Day excitement.  “And the baristas are no slouches either!” he added.  The aromas were most definitely coffee beans, there were other smells I couldn't quite identify.  “These shop owners slipped through the Rift centuries ago in an area outside of Cerrado in Brazil and stole a batch of beans, along with the farmer’s best-looking wives and bred both back on their home world.”  He began steering me through the entrance.

The inside was more bar than coffee shop, full with noisy, laughing patrons clinching what looked to me like espresso cups and gesticulating like drunken sailors.  Jack pulled me into a cramped corner bar seat near the kitchen.  He called out to one of the waitresses in a language I didn’t recognize, obviously ordering two drinks for us.  Moments later, a tall, voluptuous brunette with cat's eyes and leopard spots from her ears down both sides of her exposed back handed us our drinks, dripping her tits over the table.  Jack leaned over to her, and while whispering something, caressed the back of her ear.  She giggled, and trotted off, her butt jiggling underneath her black nylon mini skirt.  On this occasion, I couldn’t blame Jack’s shameless behavior.

“Taste this, Ianto,” Jack encouraged, handing me a cup.  “Tell me if this isn’t some of the best coffee _you’ve_ ever had.”  I was hurt at first, as I thought mine was considered the best he'd tasted.  But slipping this, I had to agree with him.  The aroma was vaguely tart and, if I hadn’t known better, seemed to have a hint of jasmine.  It was strong but not overpowering like many dark roasts.  And its richness indicated a very slow brew, likely an 18- to 24-hour process.  “Take it gently, though,” Jack warned.  “It has some hallucinogenic qualities.”

“Where is it from, again?” I asked.

“ _Trapsbury_ , just past where we're headed,” he said, taking slow slip from his cup.  “I’ll try to see if we can bring some back with us.  Might be a bit tricky though.  Those _Trapsburians_ are treacherous negotiators.”  I gave him my best “please Big Daddy” look.  It works most of the time.

“Where does the bar get their baristas?” I commented while sipping some more and watching another fabulous creature saunter her ass pass me, winking as she went by.

“The _Kihobi_ are minority peoples who migrated to the same planet about 200 years ago when their sun died.  They are coffee cultivators.  The _Trapsbury_ are merchants but look to the _Kihobi_ , who live in the jungle areas of the planet and are the artists when it comes to correctly harvesting this nectar.”  He noticed me take a rather large gulp.  “Whoa, big boy!  Like I said, this isn’t some Vietnamese dark roast.  Be careful, now or I’ll have to carry you to our cabin.”

I was already feeling good and finally relaxed, so that didn’t sound like a bad idea, particularly the longer I watched the cute baristas.  Jack laughed at me then called for another round.  When the one with the black skirt came back with our next round, he whispered something to her which again made her giggle.  I sipped at the second cup while he flirted with her.  I looked around the room.  Not all the species were bipeds nor did some of them have what I would refer to as skin.  But lust is universal and it has a distinct odor.  Everything seemed to be grinding something and the music with words I couldn’t comprehend swirled around like my head was part of a school of fish.  After handing our cute barrista a card with something I couldn’t read scribbled on it, Jack returned to me, “Come on.  I think you’ve had your limit.”  Selfish asshole, I thought to myself as he pulled me out of the place.

Walking toward the lifts and then down a hallway toward the guest cabins, I plotted my return to the bar.  But, as usual, he was ahead of me, “Can you put the barista aside for just a minute and admire our accommodations?”  He opened the door.

The man certainly knew how to change a subject.  The cabin was amazing.  Aaron Spelling’s Love Boat needed to take some specks from this spot.  It was definitely designed to stay in and not go out – a fully stocked bar and kitchenette, plush matching beige furniture throughout, living room with wide view of the passing stars, huge bedroom (although I didn’t see that until later), two sink, brown marble bathroom with separate shower and bath tub, small office with desk containing a built in communication center glassed off from the living room all underneath hardwood floors with the cushiest Indian rugs your feet ever rested on.   Ah, did I mention that it also had a remarkable library and music system?  “Brilliant!” was all I could say. 

Jack grabbed me and kissed my forehead.  “I thought you’d like it.”  He took off his coat and deposited it on chair close by.  “Loosen your tie, Ianto,” he said.  “When I told you this was part vacation, I meant it.”  He got a bottle of what was probably beer from the mini bar.  “I’m going put to call into Aliyah, let her know we are on our way and see if she has our cover in place.”  Just as he took a sip, there was a knock at the door.  “Answer that, will ya?” he asked going into the office area.

Standing on the other side was the barista from _Narwhal's Cup_.  I noted her name tag said ‘Chimia’, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered how it was she had a name tag in English.  She gave me a come-hither smile as she walked past me into the living room.  Jack recognized her and knocked on the glass window to say hello.  Were his blue eyes twinkling just a little more than usual?  She turned to me and entered my personal space.  She tugged on my tie and said something in her language that was probably akin to “want some of this?”  I nodded yes. 

She pushed me back, just enough to give me a good view of her act.  I could feel the hallucinogen from the coffee seeping through my nerves just as I watched what few clothes she wore melt off her luscious body like butter and syrup dripping down hot flapjacks.  I couldn’t get my clothes off fast enough.  I sat in one of the room’s creamy, soft shell sofas and pulled her on top, facing me while she straddled my waist.  Her brown, spotted skin was creamy and she was shaped like a Gauguin Tahitian beauty.  I tasted her lips and my tongue tingled like I had eaten an entire box of pop rocks all at once.  Her hair was luscious, shimmering brown specks of light when I took apart the long braid in the back.

There had to be a remote control somewhere because the pounding rhythms of George Michael’s “Freak!” came across some excellently-placed speakers.

 _I'll be your sexual freak of the week_  
I'll be your inspirational brother  
Yo mama can't you see  
I'll be your sexual freak of the week  
I'll be your educational lover  
Your one fuck Fantasy

She turned around on my lap, facing away from me now.  Like a cat worshiping its owner, she rubbed her body against mine in an incessant rhythm.  I put one hand on a voluminous breast and my other on her hip to steady her against me.  She leaned back into me.  Her taut nipple against my fingers and her moans against my neck were wondrous. 

_Can I come on in, my sweet baby_

_Can I move on in . . ._

She propelled herself off me again.  I let out a disappointed groan as I watched her stand in front of me.  At about 5’5” with palm-size leopard spots that dipped down her back, wrapped around beneath her belly button then crossed around her long legs and disappearing at her ankles, she was an unbelievable sight.  She straddled me again, but facing me.  Leaning into me, she licked just underneath my ear and moved over to bite my neck.   Using some universal language, she promised to make me come like no other before.  She started to firmly stroke my growing shaft in movements that matched her body’s.  I would have bet millions that her fingers were bits of lightening especially made for my cock. 

 _You got yourself some action_  
Said you got your sexy Java  
You got your speed connection  
Free chat, fuck that, get a little harder

Just as a small dribble of gism seeped from my engorged head, she withdrew from me again and I was immediately left feeling cold and yearning.  Standing dominantly in front of me still in her red, three-inch spike heels, she smiled at me slyly. It made me think of Jack.   I knew he must be enjoying this from behind the glass in the other room even while discussing business.  He and Bill Clinton had the ability to be that kind of ambidextrous.  But frankly, I didn’t give a shit at that moment about Jack Harkness - I was going to have my dick wrapped up in whatever passed for alien pussy in this galaxy and it was going to happen now.

I reached out to grab her, bring her back into my lap, but she pushed my hands away with a “no, no, no” look.  She had other ideas.  With a click of her tongue against her teeth, she turned her back to me and stuck out her ass.  I got the idea and held up my dick.  She backed in and sunk my cock directly inside her butt.  Amazed by how wet and tight she felt, I sighed loudly with much satisfaction.  Anuses in her world must get as wet as pussy does on mine because the inside of her ass was like a plush waterfall.  She giggled, wiggling her hips once she was full of me.  Controlling the rhythm now, I squeezed and guided the sides of her bodacious ass, sliding her up and down over me at just the right angle to sheath me inside her to the top of my balls.  Her long legs draped on the other side of mine, she leaned back against my chest, moaning lightly against my ear.  Even her back was erotic and I was close to coming, uncertain if my mind would explode before my balls did.

Honestly, I had forgotten about Jack until I spied him over her moving shoulders through my half-closed eyes.  One minute his gloriously, delectable ambidextrous self was smiling at us, naked and softly rubbing his cock, and the next moment he was gone.  I found myself irritated with him initially, thinking he should have been jealous or at least not enjoyed watching me shag this intoxicating cat woman.   Then, Alejandro Escovedo reminded me that

 _I was drunk,_  
I was down,  
I was wanderin' round my bed,  
I was drunk,   
I was down,   
I was wanderin' round my bed  
I called out your name  
Called out your name

The next thing I knew my sex partner’s moans increased.  Just as she stopped moving up and down, insisting instead on rolling her hips around my dick, I could feel Jack’s tongue as it would start from the base of my balls and creep up over her clit.  This started another rhythm, one that was all _his_ own.  Jack’s tongue seemed to know what spot needed what attention - her clit liked thin, quick licks while I begged for his mouth to suck my balls like a hungry baby at a nipple.  How did he do it?  It must have been one of those techniques he learned from some alien swami or another during some Time Agency mission or another - or maybe it was the “dope coffee” I drank earlier.  I hadn’t ever felt anything like it before.  Any moment I feared I’d lose consciousness and die before I had a chance to ask him how he did it.  Chimia and I both started shaking, our skin prickled like shards of glass.

“No you don’t, you two,” Jack said while standing up and lifting Chimia’s legs.  “I’m not letting you be done this soon.”  He slid his dick in her like a snake moves through a Louisiana swamp.  She cried out, filled up and stretched out farther than ever in her life, I suspect.  It was exquisite for all involved.  Jack had the control now and neither Chimia nor I were complaining.  His dick rubbed against mine as we seesawed her between us. While Jack’s rhythm was igniting sparks inside of Chimia’s belly, I must have looked at him jealously.  “Greedy bitch,” he laughed.  He bent down close to my ear.  “I got something for you, too,” he added before kissing me deeply.

 _Oooh now that the moment's here_  
Baby lift my cup for you to drink my dear, Baby  
Oooh I know that you're lovin me  
Don't be ashamed baby, go on and take that thang

Chimia climaxed.  Her shivers rattled around my cock with a massage therapist’s deftness. 

She collapsed against me with my dick still inside her.  Her hips continued up and down slightly in time with her heavy breaths and I felt I was again on the edge.  Lost in my pending orgasm, I didn’t realize that Jack moved his cock until he had lifted Chimia’s legs onto his shoulders.  He placed my legs in the crook of his arms.  His plunging into my ass was initially painful and I yelped out.  He kept still but fully inside me to so I could adjust to him.  He seemed bigger than his usual, rounder than his usual hefty girth.  My ass was on fire but in a good way.  My grabbing the side of his ass signaled that I was ready and he began to move in and out of me in a building rhythm.  I opened my eyes long enough to see him watching me - he often did that when we made love.   He got great pleasure from my orgasms.  I slid down further into the couch and offered more of my ass. 

 _I won't stop till your legs start shaking_  
Keep on going till your legs start shaking  
Every motion till your legs start shaking  
To what I know till your legs start shaking  
You're so good till your legs start shaking  
Like I knew it boo till your legs start shaking  
I don't stop till your legs start shaking  
Till I reach the top till your legs start shaking

Sleepy Brown’s “Till (Your Legs Start Shaking)” was so right about this situation.  As she recovered, Chimia joined Jack’s pace in a more deliberant manner, sliding up and down on my dick like before. This time I wrapped my free arm around her waist, holding on as a cycle of ecstasy reignited.

My orgasm started slowly, somewhere in the back of my ass then rumbling around my hips.  I started shaking again, braced myself mentally as I felt a mad rush envelope me.  By the time my dick exploded, I was screaming, “Jack!  Jack!”  I began bucking against his cock while shooting deep into Chimia’s ass.  She began to come again too, as did Jack, finally.  I could feel his heat overflow then drip down the crack of my ass, likely ruining the pristine upholstery. 

The room spun then collapsed around me.  I did something between sleep and passing out for I don’t know how long.  I vaguely remember Chimia offering something of a “thank you” to Jack, kissing him on the cheek and leaving.  Somehow he got me up from the chair and into the cushy bed.  He nuzzled me with that fabulous 51st Century smell of his and I finally did fall asleep. 

I could’ve stayed there in that bed with Jack’s arms around me forever.  But then again, that wouldn’t be the Torchwood way, now would it?

******************************************

Chapter Three – Returning to Work?

Mornings on a cruise ship are kind to hangovers.  You don’t find yourself facing some bright, sunny light reminding you that you should have been up hours ago and you should be heading to work or some other useful endeavor instead of keeping your head under comfy covers.  Unfortunately, this particular space vessel has Jack Harkness on it, whose cheerful razzing only aggravates a migraine.

“Hey, gorgeous!” he said through two layers of bed linen.  “I’m still your boss you know and you’re on the clock.”  He must have taken my groan as acknowledgment.  “I’ve got a good cure for you, but I need you sitting up, pronto.”  I pulled the cover down below one eye and realized he had kindly not put on all the lights in the room.  He was standing next to the bed, obviously showered, fully dressed, and holding a cup of something that at least didn’t smell as if it would turn my stomach.  “This isn’t ‘hair of the dog’, but I promise it _will_ make the world a less scary place.”

I took a chance and sat up, then grabbed at the drink, hoping it would prevent further stomach upset and porcelain hugging.  Surprisingly, it was not only immediately soothing to the tummy but tasted good.  I drank the rest greedily hoping, correctly it seemed, it would stop the world from spinning.  “All right!”  I said and drained the oversized cup.

Jack smiled then dashed out of the room.  He returned with the cabin’s laptop.   Aliyah was on some form of intergalactic Skype.  “Hey, you two!  I see the accommodations are cozy but really Jack!  TMI, folks.  You could have given Ianto a chance to dress first.”  Shit, I had even forgotten I was still naked.

I was about to scramble out of the bed like some adult child having been caught shagging on a visit to his parents’ house, but Jack yanked me back.  “I thought to make you jealous that you didn’t come with us,” my roguish partner cooed to the image on the screen.  He sat next to me on the bed and gave me a peck on the forehead before asking, “What’ve you got for us?”

Aliyah, long used to Jack’s ways, just shook her head, and put her glasses on to read the intel sheet she had for us.  “ _Anyway_ , I’ve got your cover story and the papers are being forwarded to you now.  You two really should have brought Gwen along with you for cover.  You’re two Chicago pimps looking to expand your business interests into weapons dealing.”

“Sounds cool, man,” I said, getting wary looks from both of them for my attempt at imitating an American accent.

“I think this is a time when your naturally quiet nature will come in handy,” responded Aliyah.

“I think I have idea of how we can boost our cover,” Jack said in an attempt to rescue me, but I still raised an eyebrow at him.  He ignored me.  “What else do you have for us?”

“Everything else, including your meeting spot, is in the communiqué.”  She removed her glasses to add emphasis to her next statement.  “I can’t tell you how important this mission is, Jack.  Things are delicate around here and the last thing we need is for either side to get a hold of weapons which would blow the whole region into a full scale conflict.”

“What kinds of weapons are we talking about here?”  I asked.

“Plaster bombs, for one.”  She brought an image of the weapon on the screen.  “They’re nasty explosives that imbed nanobits directly into the skin, which literally eat the person from the inside out over the course of a few hours.  And that’s only one of them.”  The screen changed to show the effects, but I turned away before it got to the really horrid parts.  Even Jack was sickened.  “I’d like to get a triple deal out of this,” Aliyah continued.  “One: to destroy the shipment; two: find where the Machla are getting their arms; three: eliminate them as a threat.  However, if all I can get is the last, I’ll take it.”

“Sounds good!” Jack confirmed.  “We’ll keep a communications blackout from this point until we’ve finished.”

“Look forward to hearing good news,” she said.  “Thanks, Jack.”  Then Aliyah signed off.

“Jack,” I asked as he closed the laptop, “what if someone already knows we’re here?”

“Not likely.  If I give anything to those Torchwood Jerusalem folks, it’s they know how to handle intel.”  He got off the bed.  “I’m going to review these specs.”

“No.”  I got up myself.  Whatever he gave me had taken away the aftereffects of the night before.  Thus I was able to stand up with little stomach or head bothers.

“Ianto,” his glance cruised up and down my nude body.  “Darling, we really need to get to work now.”  His smile and trademark “come hither” raised eyebrow made it look like he could be convinced otherwise.

But I was ready for business now.  “I’ve got an appointment with the ship’s tailor.” 

**********************************************************

Monsieur Rainier was one of those rare Earthlings Jack told me about that got mixed up in some alien activity or another only to find that they had more of a life on another planet than they ever had on Earth.  Usually, they were innocent felons of one kind or another.   These folks tended to do well in places like this, where there was no such thing as human resource departments or criminal background checks.  More importantly, Aliyah recommended him highly.  His was the one of the three tailors onboard, but his shop was the smallest.  The entrance had a golden sign that a fluttering of an eyelash would have missed, “Monsieur Rainier – Selective Male Clothing”.  The welcoming counter was no larger than most New York apartment walk-in closets but Aliyah’s intel convinced me that I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.  “Bigger on the inside,” Jack had murmured, grinning at some private joke.

A wisp of a man, whose mannerisms would embarrassed Truman Capote, did seem to have my father’s grasp of tailoring.  I only had to describe Jack and he immediately pointed to the right patterns and fabric.  And he was a man of his word; no more than a handful of hours after my initial visit, he sent a message to our room that the outfits were ready for fitting.  In typical fashion, Jack had disappeared God knows where to do God knows what.   Since neither our coms nor cell phones worked aboard ship, I had to resort to requesting a ship’s messenger - a pro-simian-looking creature who scampered throughout the ship calling out Jack’s name like in so many spy movies from the 1940s.  Eventually, my primate friend returned with a note from Jack, saying that I should go ahead and he would meet me there.  Of course, I arrived before Jack did.

“Mr. Jones, _merveilleux_!  It is so, how shall I say, _fabulous_ to see you again.”  I nodded, trying not to share my irritation with another person whose only crime was being prompt.

The flamboyant queen purred toward Jack, who came in behind me.  “And who is your ever most handsome companion?”  I turned around to see a laughing Jack arrive with Chimia, in a different but similarly tight, shimmering outfit, her hand attached to his elbow.  I wondered if their flushed faces meant they had shared more than a stupid joke with each other prior to their arrival.

“This is my associate, Captain Jack Harkness,” I explained, “and our other _associate_ , er, Ms Chimia.”

“ _Bonjour élégant_!” Rainier, distinctly ignoring the woman, giggled like a schoolgirl as Jack greeted the man with a slight kiss on the wrist.  “Oh my, and a _cap_ \---tain no doubt!”  If the man batted his eyelashes harder, he’d take the moisture right off his eyeballs. 

I wasn’t jealous, just annoyed.  Wasn’t Jack the one talking about getting down to business?  “I studied the fashion for our journey and came to Monsieur Rainier with the specs, per Aliyah’s recommendation,” I explained.

With Rainier’s attention magically diverted back to the matter at hand, he prattled off to get our garments.  “You two will be the most fashionable creatures on _Familiaritas_.”  He returned from the back of his shop with four large boxes than looked like they outweighed him by at least 50 kilos.  “This style is fresh from opening season.”

Jack unwrapped the box Rainier handed him like an eight-year-old at his first birthday party.  Holding up the suit jacket, he crooned, “Oh, now this is style!”  He held it out so Chimia, who was still holding on to his bicep, could see.  Her giggles seemed to make her spots jiggle.  Did nothing on this woman move like a belly dancer at a bachelor party?

To keep from feeding my annoyance, I opened my box and found my suit as pleasing as Jack’s.  Aliyah was right - the sartorial workmanship was remarkable.  The colors, the fabric choice, the needle work itself would have cost thousands of quid on Earth.  I knew I would look and feel delightful in this couture. 

“We’ll take it,” Jack affirmed.  “Put them on our travel tab.”  He was about to turn around to leave when he stopped himself.  Looking at Chimia, he said, “And can you come up with something equally _éblouissant_ as these suits for Ms. Chimia?”

Rainier frowned. “I work exclusively in men’s wear.”  He thought for a moment once he saw Jack’s pout.  “I suppose, for an additional fee to cover the cost of alternations, I can loan her the outfit one of my couriers uses.”  Rainier approached Chimia with his measuring strip.  The aghast cat-woman bared her teeth, her eyes flaring at the tailor.  Jack patted her hand and whispered something reassuring in her ear.  This got her to calm enough to allow Rainier to get his lengths and widths.  Reluctantly and nearly snarling back at Chimia, the tailor reluctantly indicated, “I’ll have it to your room in an hour.”  He was rewarded with a quick peck on the cheek from Jack, who promptly turned on his heel and left.  I rolled my eyes before doing the same.  Leaving, not the kissing.

*******************************************

Once we were back in our suite, we couldn’t wait to try on our suits.  The cultural information from Torchwood Jerusalem indicated that the style of dress on _Perturbatio_ , particularly its largest and most cosmopolitan town, _Familiaritas_ , was similar to the Amercian zoot suits of the 1940s and the 1950s British Teddy Boys.  Jack’s more resembled a zoot suit worn by Chicano or African-American males of the time.  His was a rich, royal blue (to match his eyes) with high-waisted, wide-legged, tight-cuffed pegged trousers, a long coat nearly past his knees with wide lapels and even wider padded shoulders over a bright white shirt and matching blue and white suspenders and tie.  To complete the ensemble, he had a blue, wide-brimmed fedora with a white hatband and long feather, as well as pointy, French-style shoes.  A young Malcolm X once described just such an outfit as: "a killer-diller coat with a drape shape, reet pleats and shoulders padded like a lunatic's cell".

My attire was more in the style of the Teddy Boy.  My suit was an Edwardian-style chutney-green and mustard-yellow pin-stripe drape jacket, complimented by suede Gibson shoes with thick crepe soles, narrow 'drainpipe' trousers, a smart light-yellow shirt, and a bootlace tie.  Both Jack and my drape jackets are not as impractical as they may initially seem. Not only would they act as a badge of recognition within the community but, as they was made of woolen cloth with lots of pockets, it would keep us warm on a planet whose daily temperature barely got above five degrees at the height of the summer sun, and was perfect for concealing large or numerous weapons.  I had a matching vest with a silver pocket watch but I skipped the hat, opting for hair gelled into a quaff swept back into Duck's Arse.

Chimia’s costume arrived as Jack and I were dressing.  Her people must not have a sense of modesty as she simply donned the clothes while standing next to us.  We just admired her and adjusted our clothes in the bathroom’s wall-length mirrors.  Her Teddygirl’s outfit was an American-style, ’50s brown circle skirt, with a tight, low-cut, cream-colored, short-sleeved sweater that made the woman’s tits look more bulbous than they already were.  There were hundreds of silicone Hollywood wannabes who wished their breasts did that to fabric.  After putting on back-seamed nylons, she poured her feet into what looked to be torturous Winkle Pickers shoes.   She tied her long, auburn hair in a single ponytail with a bow that matched her skirt.  I didn’t know if she was ready to entice or kill someone. 

Jack took note of an unopened box and pulled out a woman’s ankle length coat.  “Ah, how kind.  Shetland Fur, very warm!” he said as he wrapped it around the shoulders of a clearly delighted Chimia.

“Jack, are you really meaning to take her along with us?”  She must have known somehow that I was talking about her, and not in a kind manner, for she bounced over to me and kissed my cheek firmly.  She then tugged at my elbow, eyes pleading through those long lashes.

“What are a couple of master pimps without their bitch, eh?” Jack responded while straightening his shirt in the mirror and admiring the reflection. 

Without skipping a beat, Chimia planted another kiss on my cheek.  This one was firmer and closer to my ear which left wet warmth on my skin and leading to chills down through my dick.  “I guess.”  My cock eagerly agreed although my mind remained vaguely concerned.

Finally able to pull himself away from his Dionysus moment, Jack announced, “We’ll be arriving in 12 hours.  It’s time we go over the plan then rest before we land.”  He took note of my cock’s attention to our new team member, then said, “Well, maybe only a little rest.”

*************************

Chapter Three – The meeting

Khatara B’gidah was a nervous little man, more trollish than human.  I immediately spotted him past the crowd of professional gyrators clouding the disco’s dance floor.  It is amazing that no matter the race or species, females move hips and ass that treat the eyes and move the groin.   But the enticing blue eyes and hungry smile on the countenance of one Captain Jack Harkness made every hip and ass move just a little bit stronger as we parted the sea of bodies crossing the room.  I caught a few glances myself but, besides Chimia, who looked like a spotted china doll, I prefer my females human. 

Crossing over to the fidgeting man’s booth, he looked at us like a bride expecting to be left at the alter.  “You, Harkness?” he studdered.

“In person,” chirped Jack.  “Here are my associates, Ianto Jones and Chimia.”  Jack glided in and sat next to the man.  “What do you have for us?”

I let Chimia enter the rounded, hot-red sectional before me, not so much as a gesture of chivalry, but so she could pick his pocket.   Our cover was that of a group of professional arms thieves looking for new partners in an ever-expanding market.  It helps to check out your competition before you negotiate - at least it works that way on Earth and I can’t imagine the rest of the galaxy would be any different.  While Jack talked, I scanned the room, looking for anything that could dare be suspicious.  Fortunately, all I saw were the female dancers and groups of lizard men with long tongues that Jack had previously described as _langue precise_.  Rimming is an honorable past time on their planet.

“What do you know about the _Machla_?” Jack continued.

“I still don’t understand why the Lady Teelbaulm recommended you to me?” complained Khataro.

“Listen,” said Janck, impatience increasing in his voice, “if you don’t have or don’t want to give up the information, we’ll go elsewhere.”  Jack started to get up just as Chimia replaced the last item she had stolen with stones.

The little man raised his voice slightly.  “No!  I will help you.”  He looked around sheepishly before he spoke again.  “Machla are race of engineers from a planet not far from here.”  I wondered what “not far” meant in these parts – ‘not far’ meaning from Cardiff to London or ‘not far’ in _Star Trek_ terms.  He continued, “All they care about is wealth - making it and keeping it.  They’ve been known to auction off their own children when they have the rare handsome or stunning one.  Some say they have no conscious.  Their entire focus is creating and selling goods.  But they’re more like gamblers than businessmen; the higher stakes and risker the product, the better.  Whoever bids the most, at the highest profit margin, at the most risk, is considered _jumhardrey_.  It roughly translates to ‘masculine’.”

Chimia purred in his ears to get his attention away from her right hand, which was checking his left shirt pocket, but the attentions of such a ravishing female seemed to do nothing to calm his nerves.  I believe at this point she was touching more to relax him as to prevent him from noticing what she was doing.  “They found a fabulous market on Earth because they can sell weapons to both sides.  They tend to seek out civil wars because they each compete to keep the balance of the war for as long as they can until they exhaust the market, so to speak, then they’ll move on.”

“What are they doing here?” I asked.

“On _Perturbatio_?  For their second and third favorite activities, gambling and whoring.   They get the females who visit this planet pregnant and return after their offspring’s weaned to kidnap the males and bludgeon the females.  It is a planet solely of males and they don’t like to leave anything behind.  They are a rather clean race.”

“Great, homicidal germaphobes,” I murmured

“Oh!  I must put that place on my bucket list!” announced Jack.

I rolled my eyes, but honestly, I would love to watch him try managing to pull that train.  “Can you get us a meeting?” I redirected.

“Yes.”  Khataro rubbed his hands, popping his white, bulbous knuckles and scaring himself at the same time.  “I got something set up for you here, tomorrow night.  We’re to meet them by the roulette tables in the next room.”

“Well, I’d better practice my spinning wrist,” said Jack, standing.

When we were all up and a few feet from the table, I looked back to ask Khatara something, but he was already gone.  We went into the gaming room, crowded with older versions of the same species we saw on the dance floor.  Chimia grabbed Jack’s arm, clearly excited to be in this room and whatever she whispered in his ear made him laugh uproariously.  Frankly, I just needed to take a leak.

I told them that I was hitting the can but I’m not sure how much either of them was paying attention.   Coming out of the bathroom, a blunt object knocked me out.  Later, Jack would say my being dragged out of the bathroom was ignored as the crowd probably thought it was “another intoxicated customer being escorted back to his room”.  Luckily, Chimia caught the color of my clothes in her make-up mirror through the confusion of the roulette table as the crowd surrounded Jack, who was racking up winnings like bees collect pollen.  From what was relayed to me later, Chimia tried to get Jack’s attention but because she speaks another language that neither Jack nor I speak, he didn’t understand her.  Likely that was being kind.  More likely, an excited, winning (and drinking) Jack Harkness paid her little mind until she screamed, “Ianto gone!”  Good, she remembered my name.

*******************************************

Chapter Four – Well, here we are

It was between poundings from two heinous, smelly goons that I wondered if my rather detached feelings were typical of torture survivors.  I don’t know how long my ankles had been tied to the chair or my hands handcuffed behind me, but if silence is golden, I need a Nobel Prize.  Unexpectedly, I remembered something I read in a 1942 Torchwood field guide.  It helped that I was near unconsciousness, anyway, so it wasn’t really that hard to fake passing out.  A man who presented in a commanding manner entered the dark, concrete interrogation room and said something in a language I recognized as Malchain.  (I had bothered to read the dossier the Rabbi emailed us.)  I guessed correctly that he ordered “stop” and “cell” when I found myself dragged into a room that mimicked holding areas in the Hub basement where we keep the occasional wayward Weevil or Blowfish.  I could see the thick, plastic paneling, the rest of what appeared to be a warehouse, but couldn’t hear much.  And it didn’t help that all I could remember were a few random words.  I really have to remember to ask the Rabbi to have her team put together an alien Rosetta Stone collection.  But for right now, I thought it best to lay quietly on the dirty floor and look for an opportunity to create an escape.

Faking a coma wasn’t too hard.  My head hurt like hell and I wanted more than anything to have a glass of water or, better yet, a shot of Jack’s hypervodka.  Instead, I must have drifted off.  The next thing I knew I was back at the hotel we’d landed at from the ship, _La Prostituée Méchant_.  If we were traveling in the lap of luxury before, we were now on a common man’s bus driving through the streets outside of Bombay.  Trapped by our suitcases and the sweaty bodies of our traveling companions, even Jack was at a loss for words.

The bus from the ship deposited us on a busy street surrounded by more neon lights than at the London Eye on New Year’s Eve.  Those lights were very beautiful, these are not.  The air was dusty and smelled like a homeless man living off the docks.  Folks walked strictly on the walkways because of the dung left by the sloth beasts used for short-distance transportation.  It was as if a cow got caught in Seth Brundle’s transmission booth with a cockroach.  Not very pleasant to look at, but the natives knew how to pack one with all our suitcases and us to move through the crowded streets to _La Prostituée Méchant_.  We could have taken the “overrails” as Jack called them – flying minitransports – but Aliyah had warned us of the pickpockets, so we thought taking these smelly beasts would be better.  “You’ll get more of the local flavor,” hollered Jack from his creature.  Chimia held her nose.

The travel accommodations more than made up for by the exquisite architecture and interior design of the hotel.   The exterior had a pre-war, Calcutta look with white marble pillars and ruby-red carpeting, with a matching valet guiding guests through the entrance.  Inside was wall-to-wall gambling tables and gangsters occupying them.   We weren’t dressed in our costume garb yet, so no one paid attention to us.  But Aliyah was right: once we returned to the main room in our zoot suit apparel, people couldn’t keep their eyes off of us. 

 _Ah, now I know why I am remembering this while lying half-dead on a slab of concrete in a cell of some kind._   One of my jailers was in the hotel lobby that night.  His suit was awful and his cologne tragic.  More importantly, it meant these guys had been following us from the beginning.  So much for the cover.  But the suits would make a nice addition to Jack and my role-play collection, if I ever got out of here and to the dry cleaners.

I started scanning around the cell for some escape options and an aspirin when I glanced past the plastic door.  Just off in the corner, I got a glimpse of our contact, Khatara.  He was talking to another man but I couldn’t hear the words, as his back was to me and his voice was less animated than Khatara’s, who was either pleading or arguing, definitely losing.  The other man was in all black which emphasized his blond hair.  His hands, though, were dark, as if tanned.  The timbre of his voice was a calming flatness.  The two exchanged something, I couldn’t see what, then the larger man pushed Khatara past my view, likely down the hall.

The man in black turned around and returned to talk to my guards.  I finally recognized him from the pictures sent to us from Aliyah.  Samonson’s face was ghoulish, green and pockmarked like a lunar surface.  Lanky and tall, hanging over his minions like a vulture, he commanded with his eyes, which were allegedly naturally hypnotic.  The guards responded to his softly spoken words like redirected robots.  Samonson stood back, arms crossed and sneering, as they came toward me.  I figured this was my last chance.  

As my cell door opened, the two guards fell face-first to the floor right in front of me.  I tried to raise my head but the room started spinning; all I could grasp was the top of Jack’s shoes and Chimia’s toes – very nice nail polish.

Jack lifted me into his arms, “Are you okay?” 

“My head is killing me.”  My left eye was swollen shut by now, but I could see his worried look.

“We better hurry up and get you back to the room,” he smiled weakly at me while stroking my face.  He tried to lift me, but my ribs preferred I lie down.  “We’ll get those wrapped up.  Do you think you can walk?”  I nodded despite my uncertainty.  Chimia put my arm around her shoulder and Jack took the other side to head out of my torture chamber.

“Wait!” I interrupted.  “I saw Khartara.  He was with Samonson.  He’s betrayed us.”

Jack dismissed this and started moving me.  “I don’t care about that now.  I care about you.”

*********************************************

Chimia’s skills kept revealing themselves.  She negotiated a new room at a hotel off the strip rather quickly, no questions asked.  This was good as I kept moving in and out of consciousness, Jack’s face becoming grimmer each time I winced.  Once we settled in our smaller, much less lush accommodations, Jack removed my clothing and put me in the bed.  He examined my ribs, checked me for fever and my blood pressure.  “I don’t think you’re bleeding internally but you took quite a pounding.  I don’t think you’ll be moving around for a while.”

“Where’s our girlfriend?”

“I sent her to get some medical supplies.”

“Ah, she’s learned English quickly.”  Jack nodded but still looked grim, walking around the bed as if trying to find something else to do.  “I’m better, Jack.  Relax.  Wrap my ribs, get some aspirin in me, a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be right as rain.” 

“Right.” He gently sat on the bed next to me, careful not to jostle the mattress, then helped me to sit up.  He unbuttoned my shirt and frowned at my bruises.  “It looks like two are broken.”

“It feels like twelve,” I laughed which immediately made me groan.  He smiled reassuringly and began wrapping.  “Jack, what are we going to do about Khartara?”

Chimia came in the door with bags, chatting in her native tongue and pushing Jack out of the way.  She had numerous bags and looked like she had just come from Macy’s.  “Caring for the Ianto Jones.”  She started applying a strange-smelling green salve then wrapped my torso with a silk-like cloth that hardened like a cast in a few moments.  She made me drink this bubbly coffee that relaxed me like Valium wished it could.  Satisfied that her work was done, she bounced off to the adjacent kitchen, singing softly to herself.  Next thing I knew, I was laying back against fluffed pillows, peacefully hallucinating about dancing polar bears. 

Jack stood back and smiled.  “You look comfortable.”  He had his hands on his hips, seemingly pleased at my current state. “Well, I think it is time I talk with our friend, Khartara.”

“Really?” I said slyly.  “Could you fluff my pillows before you go?”

I fell asleep nicely after that.

******************************************

Chapter Five - Counter-trap

The smell of Khatara’s weakness in another room woke me up.  Jack took revenge very seriously and was quite efficient.  I should feel ashamed.  I took a sick pleasure in thinking it was being done for my benefit.  Revenge is sweetest when served in bed.

I cannot say how many days I lay in that bed.  I sat up easily with little pain.  I felt rested and just a little brave.  I pulled off the wrapping, amazed at finding no bruises or protruding bones.  Chimia’s doctoring was a fine cure. 

I got out of bed and was immediately hungry.  The slight breeze against my balls reminded me I was still naked.  I grabbed a towel from a nearby chair to cover my jewels.  Although they are less impressive than Jack’s, Chimia, who had just walked by the door, still smiled at me like a dirty Japanese schoolgirl.  She poked her head in.  “Mr. Ianto Jones is better!” she declared.  “Mr. Ianto Jones must eat.”  She scurried off.  I decided to let her feed me.

I found my suitcase on the floor next to the bad impression of a French armoire.  Now that I was fully conscious and without pain, the whole room looked like some pre-World War II bed-and-breakfast in Bordeaux.  I took out some pants and a shirt then slowly dressed myself, figuring it was time to venture out of the bedroom and back into the world of alien domination.

I found Jack and Khartara in what passed for a living room.  Unexpectedly, Khartara, albeit clearly frightened, wasn’t tied to anything and surely wasn’t bruised.  Jack was pacing.  “His story checks out,” Jack revealed.  He leered at the man, which made him sink further into the hardback chair that was beginning to blend into his backside.

“What story?  You talked to Aliyah?”

“Yeah,” said Jack with a twinge of disappointment.  “It appears our friend here has had his daughter held for ransom until he turns us over to Malcha.”  Jack walked closer to the cowering man and hung over him like a lioness deciding which part of the prey to eat first.  “I was just finishing my explanation of why he should reconsider his alliance.”  Jack turned to look at me and approached stealthily, temporarily distracted from his victim.  “How are you feeling?”  He kissed me deeply and sighed as he pulled away.  “Never mind, you feel wonderful.”

“I feel great,” I said.  I held him just a moment longer as I allowed a familiar beat flow through my groin.  “Chimia must have been a doctor on her planet.  That remedy she gave me was brilliant.”  Jack’s smile widened and his blue eyes gleamed.  “But I want to catch these guys now,” I assured him.  “Tell me what I can do.”

Jack kissed me again possessively on the cheek and gave me a quick hug before whispering in my ear, “Let me catch you up on things.”  We walked over to the laptop.  “Like I was saying, Aliyah confirmed the existence of Abeer, Khatara’s daughter.”  Jack brought up a picture of a 16-year-old, female version of Khatara.  “They killed the mother to get to the daughter.”  As he showed me the ransom note, Khatara whimpered into his hands in the background.

 “We just need to go back to where you found me,” I suggested.

“Did that already,” said Jack, closing the computer.  “Unfortunately, it was all cleared out.  I don’t think the weapons were there, anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just a hunch.  I didn’t notice any boxes or crates or any indication there ever was any.”

“Curious,”  I thought aloud to myself.

“Really?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, as between blows they talked about getting a shipment, but I never caught from where or whether or not it had already arrived.”

Turning to our new guest, Jack inquired, “What did they tell you, my friend?”

“Nothing,” Khartara said quickly, as if doing so would assure his plausibility.  “All I knew is that they wanted to know your whereabouts.”

“How did they know about us?” I asked.

Kharatara exhaled with relief, possibly because he was assured we wouldn’t kill him anytime soon, “They’ve been following me for weeks and learned I’ve done some work for the rabbi in the past.”  Chimia entered the room with what smelled like some kind of herbal tea that she served everyone, including our prisoner, despite Jack’s disapproving look.  She gave him an “even prisoner’s get a final meal” look and wiggled her backside out of the suite with a triumphant look on her face.  “They didn’t want you three in particular until they knew who Ms. Teelbaulm was sending.”

“And how did they know that?” demanded Jack.

“They beat it out of my wife before they killed her, as you already know.”  More tears flowed as he filed to stifle a sob.

I touched Jack’s shoulder to indicate that we should end the interrogation now.  “Can you get us back to Samonson?”  I asked.

Khatara composed himself, “Yes.  I’m supposed to meet with him this evening.”

Jack looked sternly off into the distance, thinking.  “Tell him you have located us.” I gave him a questioning look.  “That’s what he is expecting, is it not?  That you hunt us down and he gives you your daughter back?”

“Yes,” the defeated man admitted.

“Fine.  We will give him what he wants, in spades!”

“But you could get her killed!”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” said Jack as he put on his long coat.  “Listen, Khatara.  You’re gonna have to do something we tried to do with you – trust us.”

“I’ll get dressed,” I said as I started for the bedroom.  I must have moved too fast for the room began to spin and the next I knew, falling was a real possibility.

“No, you don’t!” said Jack.  He caught me before I made a complete fool of myself.  “You’re going back to Earth and you’re going now.  It’s already arranged.”

“I’m all right.  I just need a minute to get my bearings.”

“No you’re not!” said Dr. Martha Jones as she entered the suite with Chimia directly behind her.  Chimia winked coquettishly at the slightly-embarrassed physician as she swished past and into the kitchen with a small bag of what appeared to be groceries.  “I just finished checking your tests and whatever this toxin they used on you is still active.” 

 “Martha,” I asked, surprised, “How did you get here?  I thought you were on your honeymoon.”

“Jack called me after I had just gotten back.”  She walked over, dressed in hospital white, black bag in hand, and escorted me to a nearby chair.  She started taking equipment out for routine doctor tests.

“When you weren’t waking up, I called her,” said Jack.  “I didn’t dare use the local hospitals and Chimia’s people had done all they could.  We didn’t know what was wrong.”

“How long was I out?”

“A week.”

“Shit,” I said.  No wonder Jack was worried. 

Martha took my blood pressure, checked my heart rate, then drew some blood into a small vial, shaking it until it turned an ugly blue.  “I love these portable lab tests UNIT has,” she said.  She looked at the coloring grimly, though, adding, “Damn, whatever this is, it’s still in your system. Your white cell count is quite high.”  She made entered data into her PDA.  “Jack, he really needs to come back with me where I can do some proper testing.  His vitals are stable and the Tylenol is keeping the fever at bay, but I don’t want to start him on an antibiotic until I know what I’m dealing with.”

“I should stay and help,” I declared.

“Nope, doctor’s orders!” Jack countermanded.  “And such a cute doctor at that.”  He stroked her cheek teasingly.  “Besides, whatever they shot into you may be a clue about what they’re trying to bring to Earth.”

“You think it is a bio-weapon?” asked Martha.

“I overheard some talk amongst their scientists about concentrating on arms that ‘are light but carry a wide spreading bang’,” said Khartara.

“So you see, Ianto, you’ll be helping with the investigation, after all.  It’s likely they were using you as part of their final experiment.  The sooner Martha gets you to a med-lab and figures out what’s in you, the sooner we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”

Chimia came out of the kitchen and handed me what looked like a bagged lunch and what was probably a thermos, likely containing the coffee she gave me earlier that made sleeping such a fabulous experience.  To think I spent a week dreaming of naked dancing Jacks.  She handed Martha a similar package.  While Martha tried to blush her way through a “thank you”, Chimia still patted her ass.  “Next time, Dr. Martha Jones stay.  Now fix the Ianto Jones.”  Damn, her English was getting better all the time.

“How are we getting back?  I’m assuming we are going to Earth.”

“Aliyah’s waiting for us now.”

“Nice, I’ve always wanted to see the Mediterranean.”  I took a sip of my coffee.  It tasted stronger than the last batch Chimia had given me.  It was just as I asked this that I realized the answer.  “So how did you say we’re traveling back?”

“Martha, much to my chagrin, has a much better vortex manipulator than I,” said Jack as he caught me again, this time as I fell trying to stand up from the chair.  “I really have to talk to the Doctor again about that.”

His kiss on my forehead lingered as my cells shifted through the ether.

*************************************** 

_“Ready luv?” Rhys’ voice startled Gwen and she nearly jumped out of the chair._

_She’d been absorbed by Ianto’s writing but up to this point, she knew the story.  She guiltily tried to hide the diary, “I’m ready.  Just this box left, but I think Rhiannon is sending it to charity.”_

_“What’s that you have there?” asked Rhys, pointing to the obvious bump in her jacket._

_“Nuthin’”_

_“Oh, come on, Gwen!  What are you hiding?” Hhe tried to grab at her, which made Gwen giggle and eventually drop the book.  Rhys picked it up and held it over his head as Gwen tried to jump up toward it._

_Finally, lack of oxygen due to laughter stopped them both.  Rhys opened the book and immediately identified Ianto’s handwriting.  “Geeze, Gwen.  Isn’t this a bit macabre?”_

_“Yes, I know,” she said, grabbing the book back.  “I can’t help it.”  She tucked the book under her arm.  “Jack was rather harsh toward Ianto before . . . before his death.”  With a long look, she continued, “After Ianto died, naturally Jack took it hard, particularly considering it came so close to Tosh and Owen’s.”  She sighed.  “I know Jack loved Ianto deeply, but I got a sense there was something else.  Some other regret maybe?”_

_“You think you’ll find it in there?”_

_“Maybe.  I don’t know.  But I gotta know what.  I’m going to get it, whenever he decides to return.”_

_“I’m not sure he’s coming back this time.”_

_“He came back before,” Gwen sighed.  “Jack’s always said there was something special about us.”_

_Rhys nodded, “Come on.  It’s getting dark and cold in here.  Let’s go home and I’ll make you and the baby a cup of tea.”_

_*****************************_

_A few hours later, Rhys was out cold on the couch next to Gwen.  She took the diary from the table and smirked, certain that she was about to get her revelation._

******************************************

Chapter Six:  Dreaming on the shores of Ein Gedi Beach

I was like a dog on a family trip – turning from Route 1 to Route 90 in an open air jeep, riding along the Israel’s eastern coast.  It was the first time in three weeks, I had been out of the basement caverns of the Shalom Center, known by us alien hunters as Torchwood Jerusalem.  I was sick of being sick, as once I returned home my illness worsened.  Martha struggled for several days before finally arriving at the correct diagnosis then the right cure.  For some time after that, I would have kept the disease rather than continue the cure.

Aliyah, always an amazing contrast of a Jewish mother’s temperament and stealth sensuality, decided to take over my convalesce once I had my strength back – she knew I was missing Jack.  We had only heard from him once – a quick note saying everything was “okay” and he and Chimia were “close”.  I was wondering if he was referring to capturing the arms or how much time they spent in bed – not that I was jealous or anything (although it is probably in bad taste to lie to your diary). 

Tired of my moping around the guest quarters, it was Aliyah’s partner Sarah’s idea to take me to an exclusive spa at the Dead Sea.  Aliyah was likely hoping this little day trip to the beach would take my mind off of things.

It was working, somewhat.  The salty air was cleansing.  The tan light-weight cotton shirt and pants and brown saddles were not my typical attire, but Aliyah was right again that it, too, helped my mood. 

Then there was the resort itself.  Ein Gedi is an oasis located in the Judean Desert between Masada and the caves of Qumran. Sensing that I needed time alone in a crowd, Aliyah encouraged me to join a tour.  Thus, I spent several morning hours following two riverbed trails, past waterfalls, through the adjacent nature reserve/bird watching site, near the Nubian ibex and an early Bronze Age temple.  I met up with Aliyah back at the spa in the early afternoon.  Ein Gedi Spa, on the shores of the Dead Sea with the Judean Hills to the west and facing the Mountains of Moab to the east, sits at the lowest spot on earth.  I spent a few moments after receiving the best massage of my life (after Jack’s) floating aimlessly in the thermo-mineral springs of the Dead Sea.  I should have been calmer than the Dali Lama on vacation. 

I was still anxious for Jack’s return.

Aliyah met me at the beach chairs once she was done with her “Jewish yoga” workshop.  She was smiling and looking better than Angelina Jolie after a U.N. speech.  But one look at me made her turn around and go back to the hotel.  I felt bad – she was trying to make things better and I wasn’t helping much.  A few moments later, she returned and promptly sat down in the lounge chair next to mine with a tropical drink in each hand and a large beach bag over her shoulder.

“You’re sitting here in one of the most beautiful spots on Earth worrying about Jack Harkness!”  She handed me one drink then leaned back in the chair to sip on the other.  I had to admit, the citrus smell was getting to me.  “I’ve known that man since his days at the Time Agency, and I’ve seen him get in and out of more scrapes than anyone still alive.”

I smiled.  I’ve seen my fair share of his miracle escapes.  “It sounds crazy, but this is the longest I’ve ever been away from him since joining Torchwood Cardiff.”

“Well,” Aliyah said almost absent-mindedly between slurps, “you won’t have to be without him much longer.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s standing right behind you.”

I turned around in my chair to stare up into those beautiful blue eyes that were more dazzling to me than the sun, with a confident grin that assured me he missed me, too.  “Jack!”  He grabbed me and gave one of his classic mouth-tingling kisses – which I’m sure shocked the rather conservative tourists around us. 

Aliyah smiled and took a Kindle from her bag.  “We’re leaving after breakfast tomorrow, you two.”  She put on her granny glasses and started to settle in to an electronic book.  “Don’t be too late.”

I’m not sure an open-air hotel room is the best place for two lovers to reunite, but I guess I wasn’t thinking about it then.  I wanted him to take away all the loneliness and fear I had been saddled with all these weeks.  Yet, he kept trying to talk about the mission or ask me about my health.  All I wanted to do is take his clothes off (and mine, of course).

“Whoya big boy!  Don’t you wanna know what happened?”

“Later,” I said while unbuttoning his shirt.

“What about Chimia?”

“Did she come back with you?”

“Sadly, no.”

A quick vision of them romping around in some strange hotel bed stole my thoughts for a second but I decided that too could wait.  “Later still.”

“Not the weapons?”

I had the shirt off and was licking his nipples while working on his pants zipper.  “Much, much later!”

He laughed lightly then lifted my face in his two hands.  Kissing me deeply again, with his tongue lapping up against mine, I quickly recalled the steps.  I held his face too and after a few moments we stopped and just looked at one another.

“I thought about it,” I said finally, my voice hopeful and determined.  “Jack, let’s get married.”

******************************************

_Gwen dropped her cup of tea, which awoke Rhys, who had curled up next to her while he’s slept._

_“What happened?”_

_“Rhys, you won’t believe this.  Ianto asked Jack to marry him!”_

_“What?  Can they do that?  I mean, when was this?”_

_“Yes, of course they can,” she chastised him.  “It’s legal here and in some other countries.”  She tried to wipe the wet spot on the arm of the couch with a paper towel from the coffee table.  “It happened after they got back from that mission for Aliyah.  Remember?  They went on that while we were at my aunt’s funeral.”_

_“Ah, yeah,” Rhys yawned.  “But they never went through with it, did they?”  He repositioned himself, trying to get comfortable again.  “I mean, they never invited us or anything.”_

_“No.  Neither of them ever breathed a word.  I wonder if Aliyah even knew.  I’ve gonna read some more.”_

******************************************

He took in a heavy breath but didn’t stop smiling, although he pulled back a bit.  “What are you saying?”

“Aliyah could marry us.  I’ve thought about it.”  Jack pulled farther away this time and sighed deeply.  Desperate, I added, “We get along, fighting aliens and all.  We enjoy each other’s time but know when to leave the other alone.”  He ran his fingers through his hair, like he always does when he’s nervous or confused.   Just then I thought maybe I was saying the wrong things.  So I went to the heart of the matter, “Men do it all the time now and it is legal here.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s wrong?  I know you’ve been married before, to women, several times.”  My mind was reeling, “Haven’t you ever been with a man, I mean, for the long haul?”

There was a drink stand next to the bed with chilled champagne, something likely Aliyah arranged.  Jack poured himself a glass and drained it immediately.  “You know I’ve been with many people in my life.  Some relationships have been longer than others.”

I took it all as a ‘no’ and felt foolish.  “I’m sorry,” I said, defeat dripping from my voice.  “I just thought . . . honestly, it was something that just came over me,” I lied.  I began straightening my clothes.  “Listen, just forget I said anything.”  I tucked my shirt into my pants and looked around for a matching tie.  “There is a café downstairs in the hotel I haven’t checked out. I’m hoping to find some new blends.”

I found the tie and make a half-hearted attempt to put it on.  In frustration, I tossed it on the floor and turned to leave the room.  Jack had already planted himself on the king size bed, sucking down his second glass of booze.  I couldn’t look at him though as my eyes were clouded by humiliation. 

I turned the door knob to leave when he said, “Ianto.”

“What?” Anger was keeping me from becoming a complete pansy.

“I didn’t say no.”  He got off the bed and came up behind me.  I dare not turn around and face him – not yet.  “But I don’t do rings.”  He hugged me close and kissed the back of my head, “A ring will throw off my aim.”

******************************************

_“Rhys!”  Gwen turned and shook her husband roughly this time.  “Jack said yes.  Can you believe it?”_

_“I can believe anything of that man,” said Rhys, finally deciding that he wouldn’t comfortable again.  “I just can’t believe Ianto would be that foolish.  I mean, I like Jack and all, but I always took Ianto as a, I don’t know, a more sensible man.”  Rhys grabbed up the couch blanket and folded it._

_“Well, all I know is that he loved Jack deeply.”  Gwen took a sip from her cup, wrinkling her nose when she realized it was quite cold.  “Would you be a love and warm this up for me?”_

_Reluctantly, Rhys took the cup from her.  “Well, I don’t know why.  How many lovers and wives has Jack had, anyway?  If I was Ianto,” he stopped and reconsidered what he was about to say.  “Well, I would have thought about it some more, that’s all.”_

_“I don’t think they went through with it,” she said, scanning ahead a few pages in the diary.  “And for some reason, I think that had to do with Jack and not Ianto.”_

_Rhys returned with the fresh cup, “One point for Ianto, then.”  He kissed her forehead.  “Don’t be up too late.  It won’t be good for the baby, or you.”_

_Gwen smiled back at him, “I won’t.  There isn’t much left.  It seems to stop shortly after they returned and the 456 mess started.  As a matter of fact, the 456 isn’t even mentioned in here.  He likely didn’t have a chance to record anything, so much was happening so fast.”  She looked forlornly at the book.  “I’m certain Jack loved Ianto dearly, but his death wasn’t unusual for Jack – he’s watched many a lover die, sometimes naturally and others through our work.  But Ianto’s did something to him.  The clue to what is in here somewhere – something that will tell me why his death was worse than any of the others’.”  Gwen rubbed Rhys’ arm and said reassuringly, “I won’t be long.  And it isn’t like I have to go to work in the morning.”_

_“Yeah, that’s true,” he yawned and turned toward the bedroom. “’Nite, luv.”_

_She nodded, already back in the story._

******************************************

I thought of making love but thought better of it, considering the situation.  Instead, I took his hand and led him to the bed.  He came willingly, but avoided looking at me directly.  Instead, he kissed me again, tangling his tongue with mine.  Usually, this worked whenever he wanted to distract me, but it was too obvious this time.  I pushed him off and on the bed.  He got the message and simply leaned back against the headboard of a bed made for comfortable sleep and cushioned fucking.  I sat near his hips, seeing his flaccid cock confirm the lie his tongue had just offered.  Time to move to another subject.  “You didn’t tell me all of what happened on _Familiaritas_.”

Jack put his hands behind his head and offered the end of the story of another successful operation.  It turned out that the weapon the Machla intended to sell was biological, a virus similar to the one they tested on Earth during World War I – what was known as the _Spanish fluenza_.  Like many bioweapons of that time, although it killed millions, controlling the kill direction was impossible.  The new virus was really an organic nanobot, and this time it could be programmed specifically for the genetic makeup of either one person or a set of people. 

I was a convenient lab rat.  If I hadn’t been rescued when I was, I would have been dead in another hour.  Chimia’s treatment kept the virus from replicating in my system while Martha’s work diagnosed and neutralize it.  “What’s different about this virus is that it will always be inside you, but unless triggered through some reactivation device, it shouldn’t cause you any problems.” 

“Reactivation?” I didn’t fancy the idea of the little gremlins swimming around my bloodstream.

“Don’t worry.  I took care of it.” Jack said, closing his eyes and shifting his weight on the bed.  “I destroyed the reactivation device and ‘encouraged’ Samonson to wipe the drive containing all the potential targets, before I decapitated him.” As is typically the case, he was the hero.  “Unfortunately, there are still Machla out there.  We will likely meet with them again,” Jack yawned.

“Khataro and his daughter Abeer?”

“They came back with me.  Aliyah has them in a form of witness protection.  They should be fine.”

“Chimia?”

Jack opened his eyes and gave me a wicked smile, “Missed her, too, eh?”  He chuckled when he saw me blush.  “She was terribly invaluable in your absence.  I asked, but she wanted to remain with her people.”  He sat up.  “Plus, I wasn’t certain how I was going to explain those spots.”

“True.” 

We just looked at each other, neither know what else to say.  I offered a half-hearted smile and looked down.  “Why don’t we see if Aliyah and Sarah are free and get some dinner?”

“Brilliant.”  Some more distracting time is probably what he needed.

******************************************

Chapter Seven – Discoveries

The three of us drove back to Jerusalem and had dinner at Sheyan, a famous Chinese kosher restaurant located in the historic Windmill on Ramban Street in Rechavia. One of the largest restaurants in the area and known for having its own noodle factory on the premises, the food was probably marvelous.  And, if Jack’s consumption of it was any gauge, the chilled exotic schnapps (plum liqueur and champagne) was probably delicious also.  However, my pensive mood held my appetite hostage.  The ladies didn’t act as if they minded his slight over-indulgence but I know Aliyah’s not stupid.  Later she would likely ask me what was wrong, though I appreciated her current discretion. 

We returned to their Hub’s living quarters.  Aliyah touched my arm reassuringly before heading to bed with her partner.  Jack, surprisingly, stumbled with me to my quarters.  Although not as lush as the hotel, it had been a cozy spot to recuperate.  It was aboveground, unlike our Hub and thus had windows albeit heavily reinforced, likely with some type of alien polymer.  The simple furniture design in brownish hues included a chaise sofa, a king-size bed, and a two-seated kitchenette table.  Amenities included a small refrigerator/freezer, a large Kohler sink, with a two-burner stove and microwave.  The mounted flat screen television with attached Bose speakers on either side also served as part of the computer system that accessed the Hub’s server and printers on the lower floors, with the keyboard typically resting atop of large six-drawer dresser.  Two side tables with Hillard lamps framed the bed.  The shower and bathroom was small but adequate. For what amounted to a two-room suite, it was more than adequate.

“Come here.” Jack was in one of his commanding moods.  He spread himself across the chaise section of the sofa, revealing the bulge in his pants.  I walked to him and stood above, such that he needed to take my hand to encourage me to cooperate.  I knew what he wanted but he was going to have to ask.  As Aliyah always says, “the sub always runs the relationship.”  “I wanna feel those sweet lips all over my cock.”  He squeezed my fingers with one hand while expectantly rubbing himself with the other.

Like many a reluctant lover, I acquiesced and sat down next to him.  While I removed my shoes and jacket then loosened my tie, he settled down lower on cushions and deftly removed his cock from behind his boxers and from between his pants zipper.  He kept his coat on as, traditionally, I like to feel it in my hands when I suck him.  Sometimes I make him put it on when he is naked.  Typically, it makes me hard to watch him in it but not this time. 

I have a technique and process.  Like men centuries younger than him, Jack can come multiple times and actually prefers it.  But, if I do things just right, I can make him come so hard the first time that he falls into a deep sleep quite quickly after I’m done.  I start by slowly licking just under his balls, one at a time, with the full width of my tongue.  Then I circle around each ball until he begins to squirm.  The shifting of his hips and the short groans are akin to begging.  Sometimes I let this go on long enough so that he begins to rub his dick on his own, but I wanted to keep things short and sweet this time. 

Cupping both balls in my left hand and balancing myself with my right, I raised up so that I could take his dick in my mouth.  I sucked at a moderate speed, but only half his dick.  This raises the stakes, as I know he wants more and inevitably, he grasped both sides of my head and directed me all the way down over his dick.  I long ago learned to relax my throat and can take all of him with little effort, but I still stiffen a little just to make him think he is in control. 

Lingering at the base of his dick, my lips massage the hairs springing from his groin.  Jack bobbed his hips slightly and I knew things were building.  Now I moved to part three.  My lips moved lightly at a slow speed up and down the full length of his cock, giving extra attention to the space just below his head.  His hands dropped to his sides and grabbed the sofa fabric.

I opened my eyes to look at him directly.  Between pleadings for me not to stop, he bit his lower lip.  This was the sign to drive things home.  The fourth move is to restrict my sucking to the area just below his head to his head’s midsection.  I do this in a circular motion, pulling at his cock ever so slightly.  Jack always said that is mimicked masturbation with a generous handful of K-Y.  It was a technique that never failed to please and soon I was rewarded.

“Oh, Ianto!” was all he could say as he shot an intense load into my mouth.  Personally, I think it is impolite not to swallow.  And I always rest my head on his chest afterwards, allowing him to pet my face as his quivering orgasm settles.  I had done a very good job this time because, as I had hoped, I could hear him begin to snore shortly after coming.  I have often thought of putting this into a book, as I am sure lots of ladies and some guys would appreciate it, particularly in moments like this when you just want to get through it.  “You’re falling asleep,” I confirmed.

“No I’m not,” he said, eyes still closed.  “Come up here with me.”  He turned to his side.

I stood up and gathered a free throw and a pillow from the bed.  I tucked the pillow under his head and covered him as he continued to protest being tired.   I stood there for a few moments, assuring myself that he was completely asleep.  He has the most beautiful smile when he is awake, but asleep he is just angelic.  Too bad I was still mad at him.

There was no way I was going to sleep at this point.  I decided to indulge in my favorite pastime: exploring Torchwood records.  I know everything about the UK Torchwood teams and have read electronic archives of some of the other sites.  But most Hubs have records that were produced prior to computers and haven’t been archived on the servers.  Typically, these are unofficial records, such as holiday photos, scrapbooks of special events, and diaries.  They often tell more than any report can about the inner workings, relationships, and adventures of a Hub’s team. 

I had read about Aliyah’s team since I had been in Jerusalem.  She’d earned a great deal of loyalty from her team, many of whom had been with her for years at a time.  I had already read several team members’ diaries, skipping Aliyah’s out of respect.  This Hub did something others did not, maintaining an open photo diary for each year of its existence.  The stack went all the way back to 1897, shortly after the first Zionist Congress in Basle, Switzerland, and the Hub’s founding.  The Hub was small back then but important, although no Rift activity was identified.  Queen Victoria correctly predicted the rise of a Jewish state sometime in the future and feared that whatever caused the Rifts to appear would eventually come to the Holy Land.  When Aliyah arrived, she raises what before were just yearly group pictures to a full-fledged yearbook, with photos and notations throughout that highlighted the goings on of that particular year.  It started in 1947, when she took over leadership.

The Shalom Center served as part peace college, part distraction from its real role as a critical arm of the government’s fight for survival.  The Israelis had more enemies that just the Arab world and Iran.  Some of the terrorist attacks blamed on one Palestinian group or another, particularly in the 1970s, were actually other-worldly invasions.  However, the government thought it best to keep this information from the people lest some ultra-Orthodox Jewish group mistake the intergalactic contact as the coming of the Messiah and rally Jews and Christians alike into some kind of uproar.  However, the veneer of a university was rather thin, particularly since the Hub yearbooks could be found in the “special section” of the Institute’s library.

It was well after midnight on a Friday, post mid-terms, so the library was vacant.  I had left off in the mid-80s.  Settling down on a typical library’s wooden chairs and table, I set my iPod on a series of Haydn symphonies and opened to September 1984 through August 1985.  Much of the photos and written notations surrounded _Operation Moses_ , the rescue of 8,000 Ethiopian Jews who were being severely persecuted in that country.  I would have put the book down rather quickly if it hadn’t been the interesting article highlighting the rich history of Judaism in Ethiopia, and three group photos that contained Jack Harkness.

The first photo had him alone in an airman’s uniform standing next to a cargo plane (is there anything this man hasn’t done?); in the second, he was standing with a group of other fliers, his arms around two men.  The last photo grabbed me by the chest – Jack facing another man (one of the fliers from the second photo) with Aliyah in full rabbi garb in the middle.  They were on the Ein Gedi beach at sunset and Jack was putting a ring on this man’s finger.  The photo’s caption said, “Wedding of Jack Harkness and Eliezer Steinberg, May 26, 1985.”

The nice thing about being involved with an immortal is that you are never at a loss for more history.  I quickly went to the computers to find out more about the man who was able to get Jack to wear a ring.  According to the records, 29-year-old Eli Steinberg had joined Torchwood Jerusalem five years earlier, recruited from a Hub in the States after his parents discovered he was gay, and this grandson of immigrant Holocaust survivors was shunned from his Orthodox Jewish community.  The revelation also threatened his career in the U.S. Air Force and the self-proclaimed military “lifer” faced forced renunciation of his commission.  He decided to take his abilities as a West Point graduate to serve through the _Mahal Hesder_ program for nonIsraeli Jews who want to enlist in the Israeli Defense Forces.  He was an exceptional officer and served in _Operation Moses_ – a meaty man, over 2 meters and 12 stone ( _NOTE TO AMERICAN READERS: this is equivalent to approximately 6’1” and 180lbs_ ), soft sandy-brown hair with natural highlights, caramel-colored eyes in a round face.  If Jack had a type, this was it.  The archives noted the marriage, but gave little detail other than missions and said nothing more about Jack.  Steinberg left no diary but died young, February 13, 1988 of Kaposi sarcoma, an “AIDS-defining condition”. 

“He never told you about Eli.”  Aliyah was standing behind me, but I was not surprised; only startled that it was already 6am.

“Why should he?”

She walked around and sat to my right, sighing while she continued.  “Because the more you know, the more of a choice you have in this relationship.”  She removed the glasses from their perch on her nose.  “It isn’t my place to tell you now, either.  You should ask him yourself.”

“He’ll just blow me off, as usual.”

“Maybe not this time,” she said.  “Doing so will make it easier for him to do whatever it is he will do next.”  She stood up and kissed the side of my head, like a mother putting her son to bed.  “It will also help you make up your mind.”

“Make up my mind about what?”  She was talking in circles and I was already frustrated.

“If you want to spend your life with a man whose demons stretch out for eternity.”

********************************

Chapter Eight – The Second Time’s the Charm

I returned to the room.  Jack was still snoring quietly and comfortably on the sofa so I undressed and got in the bed.  When I awoke from my fitful sleep, around 11:30am, he was gone.  I got up, showered and dressed then took Aliyah’s advice about where to likely find Jack - Har HaMenuchot cemetery, where Eli was buried.  When I found Jack, he was putting small rocks on the head stone, a traditional action done when visiting the grave of a Jewish person to indicate symbolic participation in the mitzvah, commandment from God, of erecting a tombstone.

“Aliyah told you?” Jack asked as I approached, his back to me.

“I found out,” I responded.  His head dropped, saying nothing for quite some time.  “Should I leave?”

“No.  She’s probably right . . . as always.  You deserve to know.”  He sighed and sat on the ground by the headstone.

I sat across from him, leaning against a stone bench.  He raised his head but didn’t look at me directly, which is unusual.  I let my head fall, closing my eyes so I could play it all out in my mind.  “Aliyah was called by the government.  There is an inactive Rift that runs through the area where the airlift was scheduled.  Prime Minister Shamir wanted to make sure nothing would go wrong.   He didn’t want to take any chances with these people as many believe them to live the faith the closest to that of Biblical times.  A lot was at stake and he trusted Aliyah, particularly her discretion.  Unlike us, the government here protects Torchwood – recognizes its value but keeps it a secret to protect them from Israel’s other enemies.”

“How did you get involved?” I asked.

“Aliyah hates flying, believe it or not – says human aircraft are too unstable.”  He shrugged, “Yeah, go figure - an alien who time travels, et al., but who hates airplanes.  Anyway, I have some experience and was between assignments in the UK, so she asked to borrow me.”  It was getting warm with the sun rising overhead.  He took off his coat, taking a water from an inner pocket before laying it on the ground.  He took a sip then offered some to me.  I gulped down a fair portion but then again isn’t it always the case with Jack?

“Anyway, I was eager for a ‘vacation’ and I had always liked it here so I jumped at the opportunity.  I met Eli as soon as I arrived – Aliyah, thinking we would get on, arranged for him to meet me at the airport.”

“Sounds like you were between lovers, too,” I said taking another gulp.

“You could say that.”  He eyed me grudgingly, irritated by my obvious jealous jab.  He refocused and continued.  “I was lonely and running from it.  Aliyah later said she noted such in my letters.  Damn, that woman is nearly psychic.”  He sighed heavily again and went back mentally to that time.  “Eli was kind and lonely himself, albeit for different reasons.  I know his Torchwood portfolio said his family had rejected him, but it lacked details.  His parents, grandparents, and other members of the community held a funeral for him, acted as if he actually died.  When he tried to call his sister, who he had always been close with, she started screaming that his ghost was on the phone.  Having grown up in such a small, tight-knit society, excommunication means part of your soul is torn from you, forever.”

“It began innocently, in a dirty sort of way.  Although it was the end of disco and the wild parties at places like Studio 54 in New York, for the gay world, particularly in America, the party continued on, even after the first people came down with what was initially called the  ‘gay man’s disease’. When we first met, the party was still running and there were plenty of places where folks still ‘road bare-back’, high on cocaine, pot, and lots of good champagne.  Together we ran away from our mutual pain and thought nothing of it, not even noticing what was also going on between us.”

“Christmas of ’84, we went to Freddie Mercury’s party at Garden Lodge, the house in Kensington he shared with his common law wife, Mary Austin.  He had met his lover, Jim Hutton, already but it was that night, with Eli and I, that the relationship, how shall I say, ‘started’.  Between bouts of fucking and lines of cocaine, those two talked like an old married couple.  But when Eli and I got back to Jerusalem, we had a huge row; can’t remember what it was about now, but it was probably something foolish.  The bottom line was that Eli was mad that I fucked Freddie without him, something I’d never done before.”  Jack thought for a moment, but I was on the edge of my seat and looking at him intently.  He ignored my expression and continued.  “It appeared in the mist of our sexual rampage across continents, Eli had fallen in love with me and, later, I had to admit I was in love with him, too.”

“You slept with Freddie Mercury?!” I asked incredulously.

“Oh, Mary was okay with it.  She and Freddie had long ago stopped any physical relations and she knew she had his heart,” Jack answered, ignoring my real question.

“Jack!  You slept with Freddie Mercury . . . Freddie Mercury from Queen . . . one of the first famous people who . . .”

He interrupted me, “Who was identified as having contracted AIDS.  Yes, it was all over the papers and the paparazzi hounded him mercilessly.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said.

“I didn’t think I could give him anything.  I didn’t think I could catch it.”

“What do you mean?” I replied, “You two were at the center of the orgies of the decade!”

“I always made him wear a condom when we did those things.   I assumed it didn’t matter about me – nothing else had killed me . . . bullets to the head, knives to the heart, poison.  But I made sure he was careful.  I didn’t think that need apply when we were just with each other.”  Jack leaned over and caressed Eli’s tombstone like he was touching the living man.  “It was Aliyah’s idea for us to marry.  She said it was only natural even though such wouldn’t start to be legal, let alone popular, around this planet for decades to come.  She took a lot of heat for doing that – her enemies had another stanza for their ‘she’s not really Jewish’ mantra, but she was quite proud of and happy for us.”

Jack drank some more water from the nondescript plastic bottle like he was taking a drink from a shot glass.  I, on the other hand, was slowly coming to realize the depth of guilt Jack was carrying.  “I hadn’t thought about it until now, but Eli was a lot like you,” he said thoughtfully.  “Always with the witty dry humor, always in his uniform - always impeccably starched and ironed, an intense thinker and proud of it . . . yet, he giggled like a schoolgirl when tickled, cried at the movies, and loved Paul Lynde.”

“I don’t cry at the movies.”

Jack looked at me incredulously.  “Anyway . . . he started to get sick unexpectedly a year later.  Eli had always had problems with allergies, colds, and so forth, so initially that’s what we thought it was.  But when it took him nearly three weeks once to get better, I became worried.  That’s when I received a call from Jim who told me about Freddie.  I couldn’t believe it at first but then I had a conversation with one of Aliyah’s doctors.  It was likely I had contracted it long enough to pass it on to Eli.  The virus likely died in my system because everything tried to replicate, my cells thwarted its efforts, regenerating the virus to its death.  The doctors tried to use my cells as a way to save Eli – they were just learning how the virus worked – but by that time too much damage had been done and his system was shutting down.”  I could see he was remembering Eli’s death, every moment playing like a bad song you can’t get out of your head.

I heard footsteps in grass.  It was Aliyah.  “Gentlemen, it’s getting hot out here and I’m sure one water bottle between you will not help.”  She motioned for us to walk with her.  Jack and I stood wobbly.  She hooked her arms around both of ours and we walked together.  She was going to finish the story, “Jack, of course, blamed himself and was inconsolable for months.   He had many shouting matches with himself, saying that he was cursed – that people close to him always die.”

“I recall me yelling at you, Rabbi.”

“Oftentimes people yell at me when they really are pleading with God or themselves.”  She smiled.  “Occupational hazard one gets used to.”  She returned to the story.  “Eli’s funeral was lovely.  Although Freddie was gone, Mary and Jim came – they felt so bad, and so did Eli’s sister.  She now runs an AIDS service organization in Chicago, so some blessing came from this tragedy.”

We got back to the Center.   It’s amazing how a combination of an arid climate and painful memories could make one thirsty.   I told the others that I was going to the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee.  I had a private coffee set-up in the Center’s kitchen and the cooking staff left it alone out of respect for another type of connoisseur.   Jack had said he was heading to our rooms but Aliyah must have stopped him.  She is a wily one, so I am not sure if she spoke in my earshot on purpose, but I heard everything:

“He knows now,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Well, isn’t that enough? 

“I don’t know.”

“Jack Harkness, you are not cursed.  It’s your business, it is the times, it is LIFE for these people.”  I could just see the exacerbated look on her face, “Listen to me.  For as long as you are going to stay here, make a life for yourself here, and fall in love here, you are going to have to accept the fact of your immortality and your lack of control over their mortality.  Eli knew what he was getting into when he joined Torchwood and when he married you.  Ianto’s the same, only better.  He keeps your shirts nicely starched.”

“And he has the nicest ass,” Jack inappropriately joked.  “Have you noticed that?  His ass is so juicy, let me tell you . . .”

“No, I haven’t noticed!” Aliyah nearly shouted.  “What am I going to do with you, Jack?!”

“Ah, I don’t know about right now, but we could plan . . .”

“Argh!” she growled.  “You do have the ring, don’t you?”

“Yep.  Right here.”

“Alright, then,” she said, “don’t ask him now.  Wait until you get back to Cardiff.  He’ll want to share it with someone he knows and Gwen will appreciate the importance and support him should his family be less than enthusiastic.  I’ll be out there in a couple of months to do the ceremony.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Jack said, likely while giving one of his mocking salutes. 

I heard Aliyah walk down the hall chuckling and Jack came in the kitchen.  He seemed unaware that I had heard the conversation and I decided not to say anything.  “Coffee ready?” he asked while pulling some water bottles from a nearby refrigerator.

“Needs a couple more minutes,” I answered, trying to hide my joy.

With a sly look on his face, he whispered, “Why don’t we wait for it in the room, eh?”

***********************************

Chapter Nine: This Is the End . . . My Only Friend

_Gwen was confused.  Obviously, Jack never asked Ianto.  Ianto would have told her, just like Aliyah said he would.  More importantly, Ianto had never worn anything that approached an engagement ring.  Did gay men exchange engagement rings? she wondered._

_There were only a few paragraphs left.  It seems they were written a day before his murder by the 456._

******************************************

Maybe I have been fooling myself.  Maybe I misunderstood his conversation with Aliyah before we left.  He told me about his daughter, his grandson, and the children . . . what he had to do.  Still, he doesn’t believe me.  I do understand.  Living as long as he has, one cannot help but to have skeletons, plenty of them.  I don’t mind the skeletons.  They don’t scare me and they don’t make me love him any less.  But I hate when he hides things from me.  I don’t know if after this incident is over if I should throttle or hug him.  He needs both but probably would like either. 

I’m glad I told Rhiannon.  Even if her husband’s an idiot, he has a good heart and seems to accept things.  I really want her at the wedding, if there is one.  Let’s hope that I don’t get pregnant like Gwen beforehand, though.  I think Jack and I should spend some more time alone together before adding kids.

******************************************

_Gwen began to laugh, remembering her wedding day and how Ianto had had to search for a proper wedding dress for a woman carrying an alien baby.  She also remembered kissing the fake Jack.  She thought of how easily that happened and, just for a moment, allowed herself to feel that intense attachment that her friend must have felt for Captain Jack Harkness.  She had always envied Ianto but was not jealous.  Jack was a piece of work, no matter how delightful he may have been in bed – she knew she had made the right choice in Rhys.  But to have known those lips just once . . ._

_Speaking of Rhys, he must have realized she hadn’t made it to the bed.  “All right, luv?  Do you know it’s nearly 7am?”_

_“It’s been that long?  Damn, no wonder I’m tired.”_

_Her loving husband took away the cold tea and put it in the sink.  “So, did you find out anything?”_

_“No, and unless Jack comes back and talks, I don’t think I ever will.  The diary stops a day before Ianto died.  All I could tell is that Ianto expected Jack to ask him.”_

_“Well, waiting for Jack Harkness to return won’t do you or the baby any good,” said Rhys, taking the diary from her.  “Right.  Time for all good alien hunters to go to bed.  I’ll curl up with you and tell you a real bedtime story.”_

 

 


End file.
